Path of the Righteous
by Fireballmonkey
Summary: Izuku Midoriya's vigilante crime fighting, new studies at the top Hero School and his new responsibilities as the Number One Hero's protege all find equally dangerous challenges in a world of superpowers, secret leagues and societies, and those who would seek to bring the superhero world to its knees. (Crossover with Marvel's/Netflix's Daredevil/Defenders Universe)
1. 1: Blindsided I

Hizashi Midoriya had always been a fighter. He'd been kicked around a boxing ring for most of his life, he'd endured the chaotic journey of single-fatherhood, and he had once shot fire out of his nose and mouth simultaneously. But now, he felt like cold hand had wrapped around his heart and squeezed. He had been walking out of his gym when he heard a violent crashing and saw a bunch of people flocking to a car crash.

He pushed his way through the crowd, realizing that moments before, his son, Izuku, had gone ahead in that direction to browse the local Family Mart.

"Move, move. . . GET OUT OF MY WAY!" He stopped when he saw his nine-year-old son lying on the ground, a gash on his head, his small body bruised up and by his head was a pool of liquid leaking from a flipped truck. Several other cars had been involved in the accident as people were pulled from their vehicles with various. He broke through the circle of people and knelt by his son.

"Izuku? Izuku, hey, don't move. Can you hear me? Don't move, okay? SOMEBODY GET HELP!" The green-haired boy was panting, his hands trying to grasp his father.

"D-Dad? W-what happened?"

"Just don't move, son. . ." He looked around at the other wrecked cars until he saw an injured man, maybe in his forties, look toward him. His eyes were like bowls of milk, indicating the man was blind. "You're boy. . . he pushed me out of the way. He saved my life." Hizashi then saw Izuku hold his own face in agony, "Dad. . . Aargh! It burns. . ." He saw the black barrels marked with the hazardous waste stickers leak out a clear liquid, and noticed some on his bleeding child's face. The liquid emitted a smell similar to hot tar and sulfur.

"Oh God. . . Listen, Izuku, please. C-close your eyes." Hizashi panicked as he tried to wipe the chemicals off his son's face with his sleeve.

"D-d-dad. . . I can't see! I CAN'T SEE!"

* * *

A boy, around fourteen years old, sat in a confession booth in a church. He wore a simple dark green hoodie, jeans, and white sneakers. His foot tapped restlessly as he spoke to the priest on the other side of the grated wall. "Bless me Father, for I have sinned. It's been four months since my last confession." The child said. "My dad, he used to take me to this church when I was younger. He was a fighter; old school, a boxer. He lost more fights than he won, on a 24-31 record, before he. . . But, he could take a punch. Jesus, he could take a punch-"

"Language." The priest interrupted on the other side of the confession booth.

"Sorry, Father. The guys he went up against, he used to say it was like hitting oak. When he was out-matched, my dad's strategy was to let 'em hit him until they broke their hands." The boy chuckled, "He never got knocked out, I'll tell you that much. Knocked down, sure, but he always got back up. He was always on his feet when he lost. Every now and then, though. . . Every now and then he'd get hit and. . . something inside him would just snap."

He paused, the priest waited patiently. "My grandmother, she was a real Catholic. The fear of God ran deep in her. You would've liked her. She'd always say, 'be careful of those Midoriyas, they got the devil in them' and you'd see it sometimes. In the ring. . . his eyes would go dead, and he'd start walking forward all slow. . . hands at his sides like he wasn't afraid of anything. The other guy, he'd see that look and he. . . he'd try to get away from him. But my dad, he'd trap them in a corner and. . ."

Some emotion was seeping into his voice, ". . . Let the devil out. I didn't understand it, you know. . . What he was feeling deep inside, I didn't understand it." He felt a tear stream down his left cheek. "Not back then."

"But you understand it now?" The priest asked, "This would be easier if you'd tell me what you've done, child." The boy put on a pair of tinted, circular glasses. "I'm not seeking penance for what I've done right now, Father. I'm asking forgiveness, for what I'm about to do."

"That's not how this works. What exactly are you going to do?" The priest asked.

But the boy was already on his way out of the church.

* * *

 **That night...**

Three girls in their early twenties struggled to break free as four men forcedly dragged them to a group of stacked shipping containers on a shipping dock. Their boss, a dark-skinned man with a thick but close-trimmed beard and black leather jacket, shouted, "Hey, hey! Shut up! We're getting a hundred thousand yen a head for the lot of you. So, if you be quiet, I'll give you a bucket." He said as he held up a white plastic bucket.

"But if you don't. . . " He held up a cattle prod and flicked it on, scaring the poor women even more and making them scream. The man just rolled his eyes and jabbed the closest girl in the side with it, making her twitch before her body went limp. The men threw the girls in the container.

"Come on, then. You can scream all you want. Come on, scream!"

A dark figure kneeled on one of the containers up high. The person wore all black and had a mask covering the top half of their face.

The girls screamed again as they saw him, a silhouette in the low light of the secluded shipping yard.

He jumped down and slammed his elbow into the back of the leader's neck. Then he stood completely still, listening as the kidnapper's friends rushed to his aid. One tried to run at him from the side, but twisted before clubbing him in the side of the head and knocking him down. Another tried to hit him from behind, but caught an open-hand strike to the solar plexus. He staggered before hitting the masked man in the stomach, but paid for it with multiple hooks to his face and torso. he was finished off with a kick to the stomach and a knee to his nose before he finally crumbled to the ground.

The first thug got up and tried to tackle, but the masked man rolled to the side before he felt something wrap around his leg. It was a tentacle connected to the man's back, and it pulled his feet out from under him. The goon tried to straddle him but was stopped when the man sent his foot into his crotch, then kicked him in the face as the goon dropped to his knees.

The leader pulled out a handgun, and the intruder rushed back into the maze of containers before the boss could pull the slide back on his pistol.

The masked man crept low along the top of the metal box before jumping down and deflecting a lead pipe being swung at his head, but the attacker swung again and caught him in the side. He slammed his leg into the man's knee, hearing the bones break and disconnect as the thug screamed in pain. He took the pipe and threw at the leader, knocking the gun out of his hand before picking up a knife that someone had dropped and throwing it with such force that it pinned his jacket to the side of one of the metal containers.

The man stopped again, and hearing nothing put painful groans and the leader struggling to escape, approached him.

"This is Italian leather, motherfucker! Who's paying for this shit, huh?" The man just effortlessly took the knife and threw it away. He then roundhouse kicked the man in the face, knocking him out. He heard police sirens and ran to the container where the girls were cowering. "Head towards Rudo street. Stick to the light and find the first police officer you see." The women just sat there, frozen in shock and fear. He hit the metal, creating a loud bang, "NOW!"

They complied and ran.

He heard the slide of another handgun. It was the first man with the baton, having lapsed back into consciousness.

The man jumped and flipped through to avoid a bullet in the back before he landed a kick to the man's arm. He wrenched the gun out of his hands and tossed it. The goon fell back to the ground as the masked man grabbed him by his shirt collar and landed a right hook to his jaw. Then he hit him again. And again. He did not stop until the man's face was a broken mess and his fists were soaked in blood. The thug would live. He might eat through a tube for a few weeks, but he would live.

* * *

Hinatabokko Orphanage was run by the nuns of St. Dainan's Church of the Nativity. Most children in orphanages were ruled by a hierarchical: the oldest and/or strongest get first pick at everything. It made handicapped and disabled kids easy targets for bullying and abuse by the other orphans. Of course, if any of the St. Dainan staff came across any such violence, a reckoning unlike any other befell the participants and any who encouraged it. Most punishments included being slapped on the wrists with rulers, extra long prayer and study sessions or a confiscation of their monthly allowances.

Izuku Midoriya held the record for most Rosary prayers for five years now.

He fought his whole life, and now he was as close as ever to his goals of becoming a hero. Maybe then he wouldn't have to work in the shadows and beat up muggers in back alleys while avoiding the law.

"How many fights have you been in _this_ _week_ , Deku?" Katsuki Bakugo asked as they walked to school together.

"How many times have I been to the principal's office?"

"None. Because no one wants to admit they got their asses kicked by a blind kid." The blonde said.

"Then why are you bringing it up?"

"Because it's unfair!" He exclaimed, "You barely have a scratch on your record when you pick more fights than I do!"

"Well, assuming that anything you just said is true, which I won't confirm or deny, it helps to not get caught." The blind boy said with a small smile.

Katsuki growled, "Yeah, yeah. Keep being smug. I'll still outshine you once we get into UA. Then everyone will know who the number one hero is and not take anyone's shit!"

"I think that'll depend on who breaks our tie streak."

Ah, the streak.

Since they both wanted to get into UA, the most prestigious hero school in Japan, they trained together a lot, and that included sparring. They had recorded the results of every round for the past year and the current score was 103 to 102, with Katsuki Bakugo leading.

While they both had their natural talents for fighting and sharp minds, Katsuki also had explosive(pun intended) reflexes that matched those of Izuku, which were boosted in the accident. In a fight with quirks, Izuku had no doubt that Katsuki could beat him, even if it would take time. But that wouldn't stop him.

"Are we gonna study together tonight?" The blonde asked.

Izuku shook his head, "I have bible studies."

"What the hell? I thought you were done with that after confirmation."

The green-haired boy shrugged. "It's a big book. Lots to study."

Katsuki scoffed, "Whatever. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Later."

He went one direction, to his home, and Izuku went towards St. Dainan's, going down some steps to take a shortcut through underpasses, folding up his cane and sliding it into his backpack. Now he just looked like a regular schoolkid with sunglasses on.

The boy walked with the confidence of someone who could see where they were going, just in case anyone thought it'd be fun to pick on the disabled. Not that he couldn't take them if they tried, but he didn't want to deal with that at the moment. His ribs still hurt from that pipe.

As Izuku made it to the next underpass, he paused. Kneeling to press his hand to the ground, the boy felt and heard a huge rush of fluids and debris move through the sewers underneath before going. . . up?

 _ **"Ha! I finally lost him!"**_ Came a voice from the giant mass of sludge that erupted through the manhole under the bridge.

 _ **"And you'll make a perfect skinsuit for me to hide in, kid!"**_

 _'Oh crud. . . '_ the boy thought.

* * *

 _Not like this. . . Not like this!_

 _Just quit struggling and it'll be over, kid! I'm in control now!_

 _DETROOOOOIIIT_ _SMAAAAAAAASH!_

"Hey, wake up! Kid!" Izuku's eyes slowly opened as he felt someone's huge hand lightly tapping his face.

Once he finally rose to consciousness, the boy vomited up some remnants of sewer water and sludge that the villain had left lodged in his throat. He shook his head and wiped his face to get all the gunk out of his eyes, ears, nose, and mouth before sitting upright.

"Jeez, thought we lost you there." Said a strong, booming voice from above him. The owner of the voice gave off this aura of sheer power that you didn't need to see to know.

"Y-you're- I mean- you're. . . " Izuku had to be dreaming.

"YES! IT IS I! All Might! And it seems like you're moving up and about." The Number 1 Hero observed as he stood upright. He had to be over two meters tall.

"Sorry about that back there. I didn't mean to get you caught up in an active villain chase, but the sewer system underground is so confusing, you know?" He explained before laughing triumphantly.

"But, it was all because of your sudden interference that I was able to capture the evil-doer!" All Might said as he held up two soda bottles.

 _'The world's most amazing hero in the world, the real thing. . . standing right in front of me. . . '_

"No need to ask for an autograph, there's already one in that book of yours." He said before picking up the soda bottles containing the sludge villain he'd incapacitated and placing them securely in the pockets of his cargo pants.

"W-wait, sir!"

Before he knew it, Izuku was holding on to his pant leg as All Might jumped into the air, sailing over entire city blocks in seconds. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING, KID?! LET GO!"

"BUT IF I DO, I'LL DIE AT THIS POINT!"

"OH YEAH! HANG ON!" The two yelled at each other over the roaring winds before All Might managed to land on the roof of a skyscraper.

"That was beyond dangerous and reckless, boy!" The pro scolded.

Izuku bowed at the waist, "I know, sir. I wasn't thinking and I'm sorry, but there's something important I need to ask you." He said, making the hero raise an eyebrow.

"Can someone like me become a hero like you?" He asked, shutting his eyes and waiting for an answer.

"Um. . . What do you mean?" The pro asked. Izuku's eyes widened when he realized his cane was still in his bag and he'd lost his glasses.

"Well, when I was a little kid, I sort of got hit by a truck, and it took away my vision. Everywhere I turn, people have pitied me, made me think I was broken." The boy said. "But from the moment I lost my sight, I haven't given up on life. I want to become a professional hero so I can save lives." He declared.

"So, is it possible-?"

 _POOF_.

". . . Kid, whatever you do, don't freak out."

* * *

 **Hello. This is my first story for MHA, but won't be the last!**

 **I'm juggling a whole lot of things right now on this site, mainly between my RWBY fics and a few other Anime/Video Game ones that probably won't ever break 10K words, but I might post for fun.**

 **I've got a couple more chapters already written out. This will follow the cannon Anime story as well as parts of Seasons 1-3 of Daredevil. You'll see characters from the Netflix show and beyond, as well as a few OC's that I want to find room for.**

 **Feel free to give feedback on what you think, and expect chapter two this weekend (12/1/18).**

 **-Fireballmonkey**


	2. 2: Blindsided II

Izuku didn't know what to think. In a cloud of what might have been steam, the imposing, bulky tower of a man that was the world's Symbol of Peace just. . . shrunk.

Now, standing before him, was a thin, sickly skeletal person with drooping hair in clothes much too big for him.

He was also coughing up more blood than an emphysema patient. Did he deflate? Was his other form some kind of suit that evaporated?

"Let me explain before you pass out or whatever." He said. The voice was the same as before, just. . . tired.

"You know how you go to a public and pool and guys will try and flex or puff up their chests to look fit? I'm like that."

"H-how. . . ?"

The hero explained everything to him. Five years back, he'd been seriously injured in a fight with an unknown villain. He'd won, but the victory had cost him a great deal of his respiratory and digestive system. The surgeries had saved him, but the after-effects left him in this hollow form. He could only manage _maybe_ three hours of hero work a day before he shrunk again.

The smile All Might wore was just an act. Under all the bulk and shine and, well, heroism, he was just some guy. Like everyone else.

"Now, as to the matter of your question," He began, making Izuku stiffen a bit, "I'll be honest with you, kid. Heroing is dangerous work. You put your life on the line every time you put on your outfit or whatever. I can't simply say that the odds wouldn't be stacked in your favor, or that all you need to do is believe in yourself. Most would suggest you pick a new career path; find something else you can do to help people." All Might explained.

Izuku felt tears well up in his eyes. His hands curled into fists. "I don't _have_ anything else." He told All Might through gritted teeth.

"I lost my eyesight when I was seven, I lost my father a year later. I never knew my mother and I can't even leave a room without someone saying 'Oh, that poor boy', or 'I can't even imagine what it's like'. I am sick of it!"

All Might stayed silent.

"I am so damn sick of the pitying tones of voice and the sideways glances people give me. I'm sick of knowing people out there get hurt every day and not being able to do anything about it. I know I'm at a disadvantage compared to everyone else. How could I not? Well, you know what? Sight's overrated! I want people to see me and know that they don't have to be scared anymore. I want them to see me as they see you! So save your answer, All Might. I'll keep your big secret, but I will _never_ stop trying to be a hero that people can count on when they feel helpless."

Several tense seconds past as All Might's sunken eyes stared into Izuku's. His were unfocused, sure, but they blazed with the passion and truth brought out by his words.

"I'm out of here." He said as he trodded over to the door, taking his cane out of his bag and unfolding it.

 _'No wonder they say not to meet your heroes.'_

* * *

As Toshinori Yagi sat on that roof, he contemplated the boy's words.

Helplessness. Pity. Doubt. He'd been on the receiving end of those looks and feelings all those years ago when he was just a quirkless nobody. Before he met Nana and his whole life changed. Was he really the person to tell someone else what their own limitations were?

He shook his head. It wasn't a matter of dreams or possibilities. It was a reality. Hero work was dangerous. One only had to look at the villain he'd caught drowning a defenseless child earlier today. . .

His hands did not feel the bottles. Toshinori looked to his pockets and saw that both containers were missing. They probably got knocked loose during his flight over the city.

Speaking of the city, a large explosion just went off in the middle of it.

"Oh shit. . . "

* * *

As soon as the explosion went off, Izuku had gone to find a good vantage point where he could find out what was going on.

On the roof of an apartment building, he heard smaller explosions in the same direction as the first. People were screaming and running. Cars were screeching to a halt or crashing. Some heroes were heading towards the chaos. Police were scrambling to contain the threat and keep bystanders safe.

He wanted to get closer to find out what was happening, but he also didn't want to get in the way.

 _'I'll just go and observe. No one will even know I'm there.'_

He sprinted across the building and jumped to the next rooftop, then the next. He free-ran until he ran out of buildings and could observe the chaotic scene below. "Oh no. . . " he breathed out.

The sludge villain from earlier had gotten loose. And probably from when he'd latched onto All Might's leg like some sniveling toddler. He really was pathetic.

The boy gritted his teeth as several heroes tried to do their best, but none were equipped to deal with the threat.

"His body isn't solid! We can't hit him!" Death Arms yelled after getting thrown into a metal garage door.

"That kid he's got keeps letting off explosions. We can barely touch him!" A sidekick said, making Izuku perk up. It had to be Katsuki.

"YOU PICKED THE WRONG GUY TO MESS WITH YOU BASTARD! LET GO OF ME!" Yep, that was him.

Not wasting another moment, the boy climbed down to street level and ran down back alleys until he could sneak through the carnage left in the villain's wake. He could hear his friend yelling as he tried to break free from the sludge villain's grasp, and couldn't imagine how Katsuki was able to remain conscious this long.

Izuku ducked into the remains of a convenience store and tried to come up with a plan. He had to stay low to avoid the smoke, and the flames around him were nearly suffocating as he tried to think.

The villain's body was all liquid. What can you do to a liquid? Boil it? No, that would hurt or kill Katsuki. Maybe freeze it?

The boy scrambled through the store until he found what he was looking for: a liquid coolant tank used to keep the industrial-sized refrigerators running. He tapped his knuckles on it to make sure it was full, then hefted it on to his shoulder and took to the street outside.

The sludge villain was still keeping the heroes at bay, and Izuku only had one shot at this. He set the tank down and picked up a piece of a two-by-four in his other hand before shouting from the bottom of his diaphragm. "HEY!"

The sludge monster stopped and turned to him. **"Well, if it isn't the little twerp from earlier! Get lost, kid! I've got a hostage who's actually worth a damn, now!"**

The boy didn't give him any more time to talk as he chucked the wood, hitting the villain square in the eye. As it recoiled, the villain's body shifted enough for Katsuki's head to break free, and that's when Izuku made his move.

Izuku turned the tank's nob and threw it with all the force he could muster into the sludge monster's goop, the tank ejecting the freezing liquid throughout its body.

 **"What the hell?! What did you do, you little shi. . .?"** The villain couldn't finish as ice froze its way from where the tank hit him to the rest of his body, freezing him in his tracks like some dilapidated ice sculpture. Izuku stood there, shocked that it had actually worked before he remembered, "Kacchan!" He ran towards the villain, not sure if he was fully frozen or how long it would last, and grabbed a cinder block that he swung to Bakugo's right and left, shattering it in chunks until he could free the boy's arms.

From there he just pulled with all his strength until the blonde broke free and the two boys fell to the asphalt. Katsuki coughed up bits of frozen sludge before he yelled, "What the fuck are you doing, Deku?! I had it handled!"

"You can thank me later! I don't know how long that guy will stay frozen. We have to run!" Izuku tried to tell him. The blonde didn't listen to him, however.

He rolled his right sleeve up and turned to the sludge villain, "Time for some payback, monster!"

"Kacchan, no!" Izuku pulled him back to avoid a half-frozen tentacle of sludge whipping at the spot where he was standing. All the fire had probably helped melt the ice, and now the monster was angrier than ever.

 **"I SHOULD'VE KILLED THE BOTH OF YOU WHEN I HAD THE CHANCE!"** It yelled as it swung another arm at the boys. But before the attack could connect, a hulking figure stepped in the way, blocking the arm with a force strong enough to blow all the smoke away, letting the gathering crowds at both ends of the alley see what was going on.

All Might was there, steam coming off his body in streams and that trademark smile plastered on his face.

"I really am pathetic. . ."

"A-All Might?" Izuku asked in shock.

"To be beaten to the punch by a simple child, one who's lived up to my ideals better than I did!" He freed the arm blocking the sludge monster's and dodged another swing.

 **"DAMN YOU, ALL MIGHT!"**

"DETROOOOIIIIIT SMAAAAASH!" The punch that All Might release nearly vaporized the monster and the resulting shift in air currents whipped up into a twister that shot up into the sky, dispersing cloud formations, blowing the fires out and, as the crowd looked up, made it rain. It also knocked the two boys at the center of the commotion out from the sheer power of the blow.

"Don't tell me. . . He actually changed the weather with one punch?" Death Arms muttered in awe.

As the praises and cheers flooded forth, All Might raised a fist in the air and snuck a glance at the green-haired boy passed out on the sidewalk. He would need to have a talk with him later.

* * *

 **So, I'm planning on making these chapters progressively longer until I can hit around 5K words each.**

 **To address reviews:**

 **-Black Priest:**

 **A: Fuck. Can't believe I didn't think of that.**

 **B: I have thought of it, but I frankly don't know enough about her since I haven't read the Manga. I do have some plans for her meeting Izuku, though. That's all I can say for now.**

 **I don't have this whole story planned out, obviously. I've only seen the Anime, which will undoubtedly be cleared for at least a few more seasons, while Daredevil may not even get a fourth between Netflix's hemorrhaging money and Disney's rumored streaming service that's apparently gonna be launched next year. That's the tricky thing with crossovers.**

 **All I can really do for now is be happy with what I'm writing and give this a satisfying conclusion when the time comes.**

 **-Fireballmonkey**


	3. 3: Give and Take

"It's. . . complicated." Izuku told All Might that evening.

They were a few blocks away from Hinatabokko Orphanage, in a small park with a fountain and koi pond. After the fight with the sludge villain, he and Katsuki had gotten chewed out by the pro heroes and police while All Might was swarmed by the media. Once everyone had gone home, the Symbol of Peace had deflated and found the green-haired boy walking home.

After making sure the boy was alright, the pro hero asked the big question: Did he have a quirk?

"Care to enlighten me, then?" All Might asked as they sat on a bench.

The boy sighed. "I found out I was quirkless when I was four. The doctor did that pinky-toe test, and when word got out, things changed. People looked at me like I had a disability." Izuku said with a bitter chuckle, "Kids picked on me, including Kacchan for a little bit before I finally landed a hit on him. But, when the accident happened, you can only imagine how the looks of pity grew."

The boy took off his glasses as his eyes started to sting. He cleared his throat, "Anyway, as it turns out, more than my vision was changed. It's. . . hard to explain. I just know things."

"Like what?" Toshinori asked.

Izuku paused for a moment, "I know you haven't showered since last night. I know you ran by the Italian restaurant on 8th street to lose the press. I know you had onions in your lunch two days ago and I know that you're hungry and tired and the more things I say, the faster your heart beats."

Toshinori sat back in bewilderment. "Damn. You can really hear a heartbeat from over here?"

"It helps to anticipate behavior; when someone's gonna attack, when they're lying. Of course, I can't do it all the time. Pretty sure I'd go crazy if that were the case. I have to concentrate. Focus on letting it all in."

"Does anyone else know?"

"A few, to a limited extent. I didn't even tell my dad when I first found out."

They stayed silent for a while after that.

"You want to say something, but you're hesitating. Your breathing changes whenever you're about to speak."

Toshinori chuckled, "Now you're just showing off." Realizing that subtlety wouldn't work against Izuku, All Might decided to be direct. "How'd it happen? You said a truck hit you, but that doesn't really account for your 'super-senses'."

"I'm honestly not sure. The truck that hit me ended up flipping and hitting some other cars. It was carrying these big drums of some kind of chemical compound. It spilled, got in my eyes, and _boom_ , darkness. I guess they seeped into my brain or something and made me. . . better at other stuff."

He stood up and started pacing, "When I was a kid, before the accident, I'd sit awake at night and listen to all the sirens outside my house. I liked to put stories to them, try and figure out what they were for; what crime was in progress, what hero would show up, stuff like that. I don't know, it was just a stupid game. But after I lost my sight, after my. . . abilities developed, I realized how many sirens there actually were out there. How much my neighborhood- my _city_ \- suffered every night. That's why I want to be a hero. I need to be able to do something about those sirens legally and give people some hope that one day, the sirens will just. . . quiet down."

All Might stood, too. "Alright then, one more thing I want to discuss."

"The way you acted today, you moved without thinking and put your life on the line to help your friend." All Might blew up into all his muscly glory, "So I say to you, Izuku Midoriya, that you _can_ become a hero! And I want you to do it by inheriting my quirk!"

". . . "

". . . "

". . . "

"Kid?"

". . . Huh?"

"I said I want you to inherit my quirk." All Might said as he deflated again, "I've deemed you worthy of being my successor!"

"And again, I say, _HUH?!"_

And so, after giving Izuku the history of his quirk, One For All, and asking him to be his successor, Izuku accepted.

 _'No more working in the shadows. Now I might have an actual shot at being a pro!'_

* * *

Now that he was officially All Might's successor, the first step was getting Izuku's physique up to par so it could handle the raw power that would be brought with the transfer of the pro's quirk.

Due to his training, he was already in pretty good shape, so All Might was able to cut his American Dream plan down by about 20%.

It was still Hell.

"Keep going, kid! We've only got ten months to get you ready for UA and One For All!"

"It's kind of hard when I've got six hundred pounds of Pro Hero on top of this fridge!"

"Five-sixty!" The pro corrected from his perch on top of the industrial-grade refrigerator that Izuku was trying(and failing) to drag across the sand.

While dragging trash off of a public beach was good for building muscle, it was also a way to teach him about the spirit of being a hero. While pros of today were all about flashy fights with villains, they used to be ordinary people that helped the community.

Izuku fell to the ground after dragging the refrigerator a whole six meters. _'If this is how I'm gonna spend my weekends and after-school hours, I'll need to budget my time better._

 _'On school days, I can do this for, say, two hours at a time, then go home to study and do homework and use the rest of my time to train at the gym or rest before going out at night. I'll also need to have some excuses ready in case I get injured and All Might finds out. I live in a shadier neighborhood with slowly rising crime rates due to a lack of hero agencies, so it shouldn't be too hard-'_

"Alright, break time's over. Now, let's start with sorting this stuff into recyclables and nonrecyclables!"

The boy groaned as he pushed himself up. He had to work harder than anyone else to get into UA.

* * *

The training meant a lot of changes in the rest of Izuku's life. He was sore almost all the time for the first month or so. He was burning more calories, which meant he had to eat more, which was more difficult in an orphanage where everyone had to be fed equally or all Hell would break loose. He ended up having to buy his own extra food with money he got by doing more chores, which cut into his recovery and schoolwork time. Then, he had to hide and defend that food from the prying hands of his fellow orphans.

Thankfully, St. Dainan's head priest, Father Rhee, a Korean-born minister, offered to keep it safe. He was a good man, and one of the few at Hinatabokko who took Izuku's plans to become a hero seriously.

The boy was cleaning the gutters one day when he over-extended his arm and immediately recoiled as the still-healing muscles felt like they'd caught on fire. He dropped his trash bag and sighed as he cautiously flexed his hand and arm.

"Seems like you've kicked your training up a notch." Father Rhee observed as he walked over to Izuku. He picked the bag up and passed it to the boy.

"Thank you, Father."

"Be careful not to overdo it, Midoriya." He said.

"I won't." Izuku replied as he filled his bag all the way up and hopped off the ladder and tied it shut.

"Midoriya," The priest said, "I know you've probably heard it a thousand times, but this path you're taking is dangerous, especially with your. . . drawbacks. So when I say don't overdo it, I want you to know that that can apply to more than just your body. Understand?"

Izuku smiled, "Yes, Father."

"Now, hurry and finish up. Sister Dima's making stew tonight." The priest said as he walked away.

Izuku's smile immediately dropped. Only Dima, the nun in charge of Hinatabokko's kitchen, could botch a stew as bad as she did.

* * *

With three months left until the Entrance Exams, Izuku was getting a lot stronger, meaning that All Might was making the workouts more intense.

Today, he was running ten kilometers while carrying a large radio along the beach with All Might chasing him on a Segway. That is, until he collapsed a little over halfway through.

"Hey, hey, what's wrong? The exams in a few months and you want to take a break?"

Izuku got to his hands and knees and tried to get up before his hand shot to his side and he fell over. All Might saw that he was bleeding through his jacket.

"Midoriya!" After taking the jacket off and lifting his shirt, All Might saw the source of the blood. It looked like someone had swiped at him with a knife, but the wound had healed over somewhat. It looked cleaned and bandaged well enough, but the running must've torn it open again.

"Young Midoriya, what happened to you?"

The boy coughed and took a few ragged breaths, "Oh. . . you know. Tough neighborhood and all that."

"Were you mugged?" All Might asked him as Izuku sat up.

"I. . . yes. Some guys tried to shake me down the other day."

"Why didn't you tell me? Or report it to the police?"

"It wasn't a big deal," Izuku stood up, shrugging off the pro's concern. He tied his tracksuit jacket tight around his midsection to staunch the bleeding. "I can handle myself."

"Midoriya, we need to find you a doctor. If we don't get that looked at, it could get infected."

"I've been cleaning it and changing the bandage every twelve hours. I told you, I'm fine."

All Might stood back up, growling in frustration, "Why are you doing this? What are you trying to prove here?"

The boy stopped and peered down at the radio he'd been carrying. "I can't just get into UA," He said, still holding his side, "I need to excel. I have to work harder than anyone else, or I won't be able to catch up to people who have trained for years. If I can't handle a little cut like this, how can I make it as a pro?"

He took off his glasses and turned his gaze to All Might's face, "I want to be like _you_. I want to be _the greatest hero_ just like you, All Might!"

The pro stared at him with wide eyes as he recalled their first conversation. ' _I will never stop trying to be a hero that people can count on when they feel helpless.'_

"If I can't power through _this_ ," Izuku said, pointing to his side, "Then I've got no business even trying."

 _'Looking far into the future, are you, boy?'_ The pro thought. He changed into his larger form and picked the radio up before smashing it in his fist until it was the size of a football. He then looked ahead of them to a trash can that marked a fork in the path they were taking and chucked the ball of scrap into the bin.

"Very well, Midoriya, I like your spirit! But we're easing up on the lifting for today. We clear?"

* * *

Vic's driver parked the car on the street and headed up the driveway. The sight of his living quarters— an apartment over a crappy garage— depressed him. But he wouldn't be there much longer. Take the fifty he'd collected, add that to the almost-ten-million he had hidden in off-shore accounts, plus the hundred thousand in savings. . .

The realization made him pause. Sixty-million dollars. Hot damn.

He'd leave right away. Take this money and head out of the country. He had a friend out there in the world, beyond the small island nation of Japan: Sammy Viola. He would set him up, maybe London, maybe Paris, maybe Rome. Anywhere Vic asked as long as he had the money.

He'd retire. He'd play golf. He'd go to wine-tastings and silent auctions and watch his grandchildren grow.

Vic was tired of Japan. It was time to move on. Start fresh.

Vic headed up the stairs toward his apartment. For the record, Vic had never carried out his threats. He never sent out any letters or compromising photos or severed fingers or whole bodies to anyone this time. If a mark didn't pay, that was the end of it. Harming them after the fact wouldn't do any good now. Going through with any of the threats would bring too much heat onto him and his family.

He reached the landing and stopped in front of his door. Pitch dark now. The damn lightbulb by his door was out again. The guard was nowhere to be found. He sighed and heaved up his big key chain. He squinted in the dark, trying to find the right key. He did it mostly through feel. He fumbled against the knob until the key found the lock. He pushed open the door and stepped inside and something felt wrong. Something crinkled under his feet. Vic frowned. Plastic, he thought to himself. He was stepping on plastic. As though a painter had laid it down to protect the floor or something. He flicked on the light switch, and that was when he saw the man with the gun.

"Hi, Vic."

Vic gasped and took a step back. The man in front of him looked to be in his late twenties. He was big and white and lean with a military haircut and a bullet-sized scar right at the hairline. The man's features were hard, his shoulders broad. He had his feet up on the trunk Vic used as a coffee table. Replace the gun with a TV remote and the man would be a weary armed-service member just back from deployment. The other man, the one who blocked the door, was the polar opposite of the big guy— in his twenties, Asian, squat, and cube-shaped with bleached-blond hair, a nose ring or two, and a yellow pair of headphones in his ears. The only place you might think to see the two of them together would be on a train, the big man frowning behind his carefully folded newspaper, the Asian kid eyeing you as his head lightly bounced to the too-loud music on his headset.

Vic tried to think. Find out what they want. _'_ _Reason with them. You're a businessman,'_ he reminded himself. _'_ _You're smart. You'll find a way out of this.'_ Vic straightened himself up.

"What do you want?" Vic asked. The big man with the gun pulled the trigger. Vic heard a pop and then his right knee exploded. His eyes went wide. He screamed and crumbled to the ground, holding his knee. Blood poured between his fingers.

"It's a twenty-two," the big man said, motioning toward the gun. "A small-caliber weapon. What I like about it, as you'll see, is that I can shoot you a lot and not kill you."

With his feet still up, the big man fired again. This time, Vic's shoulder took the hit. Vic could actually feel the bone shatter. His arm flopped away like a barn door with a busted hinge. Vic fell flat on his back and started breathing too fast. A terrible cocktail of fear and pain engulfed him. His eyes stayed wide and unblinking, and through the haze, he realized something.

The plastic on the ground. He was lying on it. More than that, he was bleeding on it.

That was what it was there for. The men had put it down for easy cleanup.

"Do you want to start telling me what I want to hear," the big man said, "or should I shoot again?"

Vic started talking. He told them everything. He told them where the rest of the money was. He told them where the evidence was. The big man asked him if he had any accomplices. He said no. Then the big man shot Vic's other knee. He asked about his businesses, who he dealt with, how to find them, and a plethora of increasingly personal and almost-bizarre questions.

An hour later, Vic begged the big man to shoot him in the head. Two hours after that, the big man obliged.

* * *

 **So, chapter three. Things are getting dark with new players coming into the game. What could happen next?**

 **I hope this helps explain how Izuku is able to observe the world around him a bit more, but I'll be giving more info on that as the story progresses.**

 **I'm glad people are liking the story so far. Expect chapter four some time next weekend (12/15/18). With my winter break from school approaching, I'll hopefully have more time to write.**

 **If you guys are liking the story, feel free to check out my other ones, unless you're just interested in BNHA.**

 **Anyway, see you soon.**

 **-Fireballmonkey**


	4. 4: Cut Man

On February 25th, the day before the UA entrance exams, Izuku Midoriya wanted nothing more than to relax and get ready for the next day. That changed when he heard the brakes of two vehicles screech to a halt. One was a minivan with a man and his son in it, the other was an SUV with three members of the same human trafficking ring that he'd 'disrupted' several times over the past few months.

The men, Russian, judging by their accents, took the boy from the van and beat his father while he watched before driving off to a warehouse near the shipyards. Izuku thought he was being smart with how fast he'd found them, but it ended with him half-dead in a dumpster.

The shipyards were fairly seedy, and it hadn't taken him long once he'd crawled out of the dumpster to find a 'free-clinic'.

"So, anyone gonna turn up to that dumpster looking for you?" The woman who'd patched him up asked. She'd bandaged his knife-wounds, wrapped his cracked ribs and tried to check his eyes to see if he was concussed, but Izuku stopped her.

". . . Yes." He said. They were in a rundown apartment building. He could hear someone going from door to door, asking about a suspicious man in a black mask, a possible villain, that had been seen in the area, and addressing himself as a cop. He smelled of premium cigarettes and discount cologne. He was on the third floor. Izuku told the lady as such.

"How can you hear him on the third floor?" She asked. They were on the fourth. Izuku sat up, despite his bodies jolts of protest. "Hah. . . you'll know soon enough. He _really_ likes that cologne." He winced before getting off the woman's couch. "You're looking at me like I'm crazy." He said.

"This _is_ crazy. I'm a back-alley doctor. I patch up criminals and junkies and lowlifes for cash. I can't have a cop, fake or otherwise, snooping around here." She explained lividly. "How can you even do this? Your quirk?"

Izuku made his way to her kitchen, "There are some things I haven't told you about me, Ms. Iori." A fake name she used for clients. Simple, but effective.

"You haven't told me anything about you, which is the way I prefer. All I care to know is that you are _very_ good at taking a beating."

"He's on your floor." Izuku found Iori's silverware drawer and pulled out the only knife worth using. "Is this all you have?" He asked as he held the short paring knife up.

"It's for peeling vegetables, not a knife fight!"

Izuku pulled on his mask, "He's at your neighbor's door."

"Are you kidding me?" Iori asked as he tried to leave. "Hey, hey, hey, you can barely stand, kid."

"That's what the knife's for."

Iori's gaze hardened, " _No_. You do not do that in my building. Just stand over there in the kitchen, and I'll make him go away."

There was a knock on the door. "Who is it?" Iori turned to the door. Izuku heard the shaking in her breath. _"Please?"_

"Detective Gurou, 13th precinct, ma'am."

Izuku reluctantly nodded and went back into the kitchen out of sight. Iori took a deep breath, took off her surgical gloves and cleared out her first aid kit. "I'll be right there!"

She slid the cover off of the peephole in her door. The man on the other side flashed a badge. She opened it.

"I'm sorry to bother you so late, ma'am. We've gotten reports of disturbances and we're asking anyone if they've seen or heard anything unusual in the past few hours."

"What kind of disturbances?" Iori asked, keeping her voice steady.

"Armed robbery. Some bastard in a black mask shot up a Lawsons on 38th. The owner put up a fight, the perpetrator fled this direction leaving a trail of blood."

"My god, that's horrible."

"Yes, it is. He's probably long gone by now, but just in case. Can you recall anything you've seen or heard tonight?"

Iori shook her head, "I'm sorry."

The man nodded, "Just being thorough, ma'am. Have a pleasant night."

"Thank you. You too." The man walked away, Iori shut the door and went over to the kitchen.

"You see? No reason to get all stabby. And you were right about that guy and his cologne."

Izuku shook his head, "He didn't believe you." He went out the door as quickly and quietly as possible.

The boy grabbed the fire extinguisher off the corridor wall and went to the main stairwell. He heard the fake cop talking on his cell phone.

 _"Privet, ya dumayu, chto u menya yest' preimushchestvo. Ya v-"_ He was cut off when Izuku dropped the extinguisher on him as he reached the first floor.

As it and the man hit the floor, Iori looked at him in shock as he leaned back against the wall. "Come with me. I need help carrying 'Detective Gurou' to the roof."

"What the hell are we going to the roof for?" She asked him as they went down the stairs.

"Less chance of someone in the building hearing him scream."

* * *

"This is. . . a terrible idea." Iori said as she watched her client tie the fake cop to some scaffolding with his hands above his head.

"Did you find anything on him?" Izuku asked.

"Just his cell phone, which you smashed to bits with the fire extinguisher, a cheap wallet, and a badge," She said, "What if you're wrong about him?"

"I'm not."

Iori sighed, "This is way beyond what I signed up for."

"And what exactly was that?" Izuku said as he turned to her. Iori crossed her arms, "I found a kid that needed help, so I helped him."

"That simple, huh?" He asked as he leaned on the cement railing that lined the roof's edge.

"Do you really want to argue about this in front of _him_?" She asked, nodding to the man they had tied up.

"He's out cold."

"He could be faking."

". . . He's not."

"Okay, _that_ right there is _really_ starting to creep me out."

"Oh, come on. I can't be _the_ creepiest guy you've patched up."

"Well, you're certainly the youngest. You can also smell cologne through walls and sense if a man's unconscious while being able to take an unbelievable amount of punishment with zero complaints."

Izuku chuckled, "That last part just comes with Catholicism."

Iori slumped a bit, "So I'm just supposed to go along with _this_ ," She pointed to the Russian, "out of faith?"

"Shut up,"

"Hey, I didn't mean it as-"

"No, be quiet. He's coming to." Izuku said as he stepped between her and the Russian. Iori put on the pillowcase with eyeholes she'd cut out on and put the hood of her jacket up.

As the Russian came to, Izuku stepped forward. "Here's how this is going to work: I'm going to ask you some questions, you're going to answer them. If you're lying, trust that I will know, and know that I will be unhappy. Where's the boy?"

The Russian shook his head, "He's dead."

Izuku punched him in the stomach, "This is what unhappy looks like." He said evenly, "Where's the boy?"

"Why do you care? If he's not dead already, he will be."

"Why did you take him?"

"We figured you'd come running."

"And after I was dead?"

"Sell him, like all the others." Izuku hit him in the face this time.

" _Argh_ , I was telling the truth that time!"

"I know. Now, who do you sell the children to?"

"Whoever has the money."

"Where is the boy?" Izuku asked again. The man hung his head and took a deep breath.

"You save him, and so what?" The Russian asked, "You save him, we take another kid. You kill me, someone else takes my place. As long as people are buying, we'll be selling. Nothing you do tonight will change that. But go ahead, keep hitting me. We'll see who drops first." He said, clearly aware of the beating his comrades had inflicted.

Iori's hands clenched into fists. She walked over and tapped Izuku's shoulder. "Try stabbing his trigeminal nerve."

"Where is it?" Izuku asked. Iori poked him just above his upper eyelid, "Go in through here, right above the eye. That's the superorbital foramen. You want to go right under there."

Izuku nodded and lifted the paring knife to the Russian's face, holding his head steady with his left hand. The man began to panic and thrashed around.

"Hold still. I might do serious damage if you squirm." He instructed. "How will I know when I find it?" The boy asked Iori.

" _He'll_ tell you."

He stopped after the knife had gone almost a centimeter deep. He had to hold his hand over the Russian's mouth to muffle the screams.

"You're right," Izuku told him, "I kill you, someone else will take your place. But they'll end up back here, just like you. And sooner or later, one of you will tell me what I need to know."

Izuku took the knife and sliced the rope tethering the Russian to the scaffolding and brought the man to the edge of the roof. He sat him on the railing and leaned the man back over the edge.

"Now, this is important. I need you to know why I'm hurting you," Izuku said, "It's not just the boy. I'm doing this because I enjoy it." He let the Russian fall back so his body was parallel to the street five stories below. Now the man was begging and pleading for his life, like that boy and his father had.

"Where is he?!"

The Russian sobbed, "Underneath the Troika Restaurant! Eleventh and Fortieth!" Izuku pulled him back so he could stand on the roof on his own.

The Russian caught his breath and started to laugh, "They'll be waiting for you." He said, "If you're lucky, they'll kill you before they start in on that little boy. It would be a shame for you to have to watch what they do to him- AH!" Izuku kicked him over the railing and off the roof, Iori screamed and ran over to the edge just in time to see him land in a dumpster.

"Oh my god!"

"It's alright."

"Oh my god!"

"It's okay, Ms. Iori! He's still breathing. He'll live." Izuku reassured her as she calmed down. "Now, you need to pack your things and leave. Don't tell anyone where you're going."

". . . What?"

"When he recovers, he'll be back, and he won't be alone."

"But he didn't see my face." She said, holding up the pillowcase.

"That was just for effect. To scare him." Izuku said as he shook his head and gathered up the ropes. "He knew you were lying when you answered the door- _Gah_!" The boy clutched his side. Iori tried to check on his wounds, but he waved her off.

"Do you have somewhere to go?" He asked her.

Iori thought a moment. "I'm cat-sitting for an old coworker of mine. Her brother's sick, so she's with him in Nagano."

"What's the address?"

"Why?"

"Well, if I make it through the night, I may need some help getting patched up now and again." He said before he held up the Russian's wallet, "You'll be paid, of course."

Iori frowned and stayed silent for a few moments.

"Tenth and fifty-fourth. Unit 312, in the building above the liquor store."

Izuku stood up straight and put a hand on her shoulder. "Thank you, Ms. Iori." He started to walk to the stairwell until Iori stopped him.

"Hey. I don't believe you," She said, "When you said you enjoy this, I don't believe that's true."

If he heard her, he didn't show it as he left the roof.

* * *

The basement of the Troika was fairly big, made up of one hallway in the middle connecting three rooms to the stairwell leading to street level.

The northern room was fitted with a poker table and a small TV set, along with a small kitchen. The one adjacent to it was for storage. The one at the end of the hallway was converted into a locked, windowless room to hold seven-year-old Tensei Iwajima.

One of the Russian gangsters carried an aluminum tray holding an apple and a bowl of watery soup. He unlatched the bolt on the heavy door and went in.

"I want to go home! I want my dad!" The child yelled from his curled up position on the bare mattress inside.

 _"Tikho!"_ The man yelled at the boy before setting the tray down. He walked out, took a bite of his apple, and latched the door shut. He walked back into the poker room and switched seats with another man.

The new man headed for the storage room and closed the door behind him.

At the bottom of the stairwell, Izuku walked slowly and quietly along the hallway, listening for each and every disturbance in the dank basement.

He hit the storage room first, springing off the opposite wall and kicking the door open. There were five men. Two on a couch by the left wall, one in a chair across from the door, one standing in the middle of the room and one behind a small desk to the right.

Izuku dealt with the middle-man first, kicking him over before he blocked a punch from one of the men on the couch. He countered with a right hook before he heard a gunshot go off. The guy at the desk had taken out a .45, missed high and put a hole in the ceiling. The door swung shut behind Izuku, and the thick walls drowned out the fighting in the storage room until one of the men was sent through the wooden door.

The noise was enough to rouse the men playing poker. One came out alone, walked to the other doorway and was hit in the head with a flying microwave. Another was thrown from the storage room into the far wall, where he hit it and slid down on top of the door and one of his friends.

Next to come out of the poker room was a man smart enough to emerge with a sawed-off shotgun, only for it to be kicked upward and send buckshot into the plaster ceiling. Izuku grabbed the front end of the gun and slammed it into its wielder's forehead before kneeing him in the groin. The other men from the poker room tried to shoot him with their own handguns, but couldn't get a clear shot with Izuku using the shotgunner as a shield.

Izuku dropped the man and whipped the sawed-off at one gangster's face, then grabbed the other's gun arm and wrenched it forward before batting the pistol out of his hand. He hit him in the gut hard before sweeping his legs and sending him to the floor on top of the shotgunner.

The man he'd hit in the face got up and landed a jab to the face, but Izuku returned it with double the force before throwing one of the pistols at a gangster who'd risen from under the busted storage room door.

He flipped one of the poker players over and pinned him to the ground before pistol-whipping him with another gun he picked up, then fell back for a moment to give his already damaged body a break.

Three of the men got up, so Izuku did as well. He planted one foot on the left wall and shot himself forward to drive his fist into the front man's jaw. He used the pistol to hit the second gangster in the jaw, then sent a knife-hand to the back of his neck, making him topple over. The third, he bashed in the face with the gun before grabbing him by the hair and shoving his face into the wall. He spun and threw the gun into the face of the first man.

Another got up by the door, but Izuku ran at him and kicked him in the chest, then felt someone grab him from behind and drag him backward. One guy held him while another punched him in the stomach. Izuku hung his head forward before rearing it back, feeling his captor's nose break behind him, then kicked the man in front of him in the groin.

While the man with the broken nose was down, Izuku kicked him in the face for good measure before knocking another guy out with three blows to the face. Another gangster tried to grab another dropped gun, but Izuku dragged him over by his legs and grabbed him by the neck and slammed his head into the floor.

The boy stopped and took a breath, which was soon knocked out of him as a man got up and slammed his fists into Izuku's back. While he was down, Izuku kicked back, hitting the man square in the knee and making him fall, then slamming both feet into his face.

Izuku got up again, leaning on the wall and panting heavily before making sure all gangsters were down for the count.

He went over to the bolted door and slid his mask up and off his eyes, leaving his whole face clear. He opened the door and found the child crying inside. Izuku put his hands up and knelt a few feet away from him.

"Hi," He began gently, "I know you're scared. But I'm here to help you, okay? You don't have to be scared anymore, alright?"

The boy looked up at his face, "Okay." He said shakily as he stopped crying.

"Alright, let's get you home to your dad, okay?" He picked the kid up and put his mask back on before he walked back up the hallway and out the back of the restaurant.

* * *

 **Alright, we've reached the famous hallway fight, I just hope I did a good job. I'm still trying to find a good method for writing these longer action scenes without it feeling choppy or repetitive, and I think I'm improving with some of the stuff to come.**

 **Next chapter will be some glimpses into the life of Izuku's relationship with his late father. Look forward to it next weekend. (12-21-18)**

 **In the mean time, don't be afraid to leave reviews or browse my other stories.**

 **-Fireballmonkey.**


	5. 5: Actions of the Father

_"The crowd is not happy, Budo. Midoriya has dominated this fight, but now Okada has turned the tables on him. He's pounding Midoriya's head and Midoriya isn't even defending himself!"_

 _"Oh! Oh!"_

 _"Wait! The official is stopping the fight."_

 _DING DING DING_

 _"2-to-1 favorite, 'The Green Dragon' Hizashi Midoriya loses to a TKO in the 10th round."_

 _"Okada looks as shocked as the crowd. Midoriya had him on the ropes, but let his gloves drop and got tagged with a series of devastating-"_

A disappointed eight-year-old Izuku Midoriya shut the TV off before leaving the living room of his apartment. He went to sit at the small kitchen table and closed his eyes. He listened to the music of his building.

Neighbors argued upstairs, loud music blared next door, someone dropped a plate across the hall.

It wasn't long before his Father came home, his face busted up form the boxing match. "Dad!" The boy ran over to hug his Father, and the man instantly felt the weight of the world leave his shoulders. "Hey, Izuku. Hey, easy! Don't. . . don't get blood on your shirt."

He breathed heavily as he made his way to the kitchen table and dropped his gym bag by the door.

"You've gotta keep your gloves up." His son told him. He chuckled, "Yeah, well, I. . . I should have you in my corner."

"Does it hurt?"

Hizashi sighed as he sat down, "It doesn't tickle, that's for sure. Go get the kit."

Izuku nodded and brought the first-aid kit from the kitchen cupboard and placed it on the table, "You should've had him. Okada's a bum."

" _Hey._ Anybody who's got the guts to step into the ring deserves respect. Don't you ever forget that." Hizashi said firmly before wincing as his son disinfected his cut up and bruised face.

"Even Okada?"

"Even Okada."

". . . I'm sorry you lost, Dad."

"Yeah, well, just wasn't my night." He said. Izuku set the disinfectant down and gently dabbed the remaining blood away.

"Stitches?" Hizashi asked.

"Definitely."

Hizashi sighed, "Better get the whiskey."

Izuku got the old bottle of Yamazaki and tried to give it to his father, but the man pushed it back towards his son. "No, no, it's for you."

"Really?"

"You think I want your hands shaking like last time? This is my face we're talking about." The man joked as Izuku threaded the curved suture needle. He took the bottle, uncapped it, sniffed, and recoiled.

"It smells like acid." He coughed out.

"Go ahead. Just a sip or two." Hizashi encouraged. Izuku nodded and took a small swig, making a face as the alcohol burned its way down his throat.

" _Ugh._ Is this what it feels like when you breathe fire?" The boy asked.

Hizashi shrugged, "I've built up a tolerance. Now come on. Let's get this done."

Hizashi shut his eyes and tried to relax as Izuku told him not to move. He held the needle with surgeon's tweezers and began with the cut above his right eyebrow. In one side, out the other, then back, just like Hizashi had taught his son.

"So, you watched the fight?" Izuku didn't answer.

"You were supposed to be doing your homework."

"I got it done first." Izuku muttered.

"All of it?"

He shook his head.

"I want you to finish it up before you go to bed."

"I'll do it tomorrow," Izuku said.

"Tonight,"

"Before school?" He bargained.

" _Tonight._ Okay?"

"Alright," He said as he went back with the needle. "Dad?"

"Yeah?"

"Are we gonna have enough this month for Mr. Miyagi?"

Hizashi nodded as Izuku cut the protruding threads form the knots on either side of the cut and took out a hefty envelope full of cash, placing it on the table. "He will get his rent on time."

Izuku examined the amount, astonished, "You got all _this_ for _losing_?"

Hizashi nodded, "Sometimes. . . Even when you get knocked down, you can still win."

Izuku nodded back, "It's not how you hit the mat. . . "

 _"It's how you get up."_ The both said. "That's right. . . Alright, now go hit the books."

"Should I take the bottle?"

"No, leave it." Hizashi said before his son left. He sighed as he looked shamefully at the wad of Yen on his kitchen table.

* * *

Ten-year-old Izuku slept with hushed laying on the kitchen table. He was shaken awake by his father as the man laid his gym bag by the door and opened up the fridge to get an ice pack. "Wake up, Izuku, you gotta finish up."

"I'm tired, dad."

"Well, I don't want you to end up like your old man." He sat down and pressed the ice pack to his face. "I never studied. Look where it got me..." He realized his mistake and brought his son's hand up to his swollen, bloodied face. "Come on, Izuku."

"Get to work."

* * *

At the KDA Boxing Gym, Hizashi Midoriya was sparring with a new face in the main ring. His son sat on the far side at a small metal table, going over his new braille, or _tenji_ , books.

"Footwork, Midoriya! Footwork!"

Hizashi hit the mat with a dull thud before the bell went off, making his son wince from across the ring. The man got up.

"Way to take a punch, Midoriya." His opponent said as they made room for the next practice round.

He dragged a chair over and sat with his son. "How'd you do?" The boy asked.

"Eh, I tagged him a few times. That kid is _fast_. How are you getting along with your new books?"

"I'm working on it. It's all transcribed from Japanese more or less as it would be written in Hiragana or Katakana syllabaries, without any provision for writing Kanji." Izuku explained.

"It's a vowel-based Abugida, so the glyphs are syllabic, but unlike Kana, they contain separate symbols for consonant and vowel, and the vowel takes primacy. The vowels are written in the upper left corner and can be used alone. The consonants are written in the lower right corner and can't occur alone. You have to pay attention to what's not there as much as what is."

". . . Yeah, that doesn't make any damn sense at all." Hizashi said as he flipped through one of the books.

"Well, you know how you can tell where a punch is going before it's thrown sometimes, right?"

Hizashi chuckled, "Clearly, I don't." They both laughed, "So, you can make sense of all this?"

"I'm starting to. They say it gets faster once you get the hang of it, but since this whole thing was originally made in French, it gets tricky."

"Oi! Green Dragon!" From the gym's main entrance, two men sharply dressed in suits and trenchcoats called to Izuku's father. The man sighed and waved them over to the far corner of the gym. "Just you wait, kiddo. In a couple of months, you'll be reading Tenji faster than I read normally."

"I already do." Izuku said with a smile. Hizashi laughed, "Yeah, yeah, I get it. Smartass." He bussed his son on the top of his head and went over to the waiting men.

"What's the word, Midoriya?" The taller one greeted.

"Mr. Suntori, Tenko." Hizashi greeted politely.

"Hello, Midoriya." Tenko, the shorter, fatter man, said.

"Heard about the boy. That's a tough break." Suntori said.

"You have our condolences."

"But, you're young still. Plenty of time to have more kids."

Hizashi frowned, took a deep breath, and crossed his arms. "What can I do for you gentlemen?"

Tenko smiled, "We come bearing glad tidings: A match with Ip Min."

Hizashi's eyes widened, " _Min_? How'd you pull that off?"

Tenko nodded to his partner, "Mr. Suntori can be _very_ persuasive when he puts his mind to it."

"Jesus. . . Ip Min. I-I owe you two. I really do." Hizashi beamed. A chance to run against one of China's top twenty Heavyweights could put him in a different league, literally and figuratively.

"Ah, you're doing us the favor," Tenko said, "It's 3-to-1 that you go the distance on this."

Hizashi's smile dropped. "You drop in the fifth, we're clearing seventy percent." They noticed Hizashi's change in mood.

"Come now, Midoriya, now's a time to celebrate." Suntori said.

"This is the Big Time, Midoriya."

". . . Thank you for the offer. But I'm going to take a pass."

"Oh-ho-ho, did he just say _'pass'_?" Suntori asked, amused.

"Look, I appreciate all you've done for me, I really do. But. . . I've got other things to worry about." He motioned to his son.

The other men frowned. "Well, if he doesn't want to do it, he doesn't want to do it." Suntori told his partner. "A man makes his choice, and we make _ours_."

Hizashi's eyes narrowed, "You wanna step into the ring and see how that plays out, Suntori?"

Tenko looked between the two men, "You should think of you're family, Midoriya. This could do a lot of good for your boy."

"Yeah. What else are you gonna leave him when you're gone?"

Hizashi took a long look at Izuku.

"Alright."

"We need to hear you say it, Midoriya."

"I go down in the fifth." Hizashi said through clenched teeth.

"There you go. That wasn't so hard."

But it _was_ hard. Hard on the boy who just found out his father was in with the Mob.

* * *

"'There's a price to be paid for division and isolation. Democracy cannot flourish in hate. Justice cannot take root amid rage. We must dissent from the indifference. We must dissent from the apathy. We must dissent from the fear.'" Izuku read off from his seat at the kitchen table.

Hizashi let out a low whistle, "Either you're actually reading all that, or you're making it up as you go along. I don't know which is more impressive."

"It's Thurgood Marshall."

"Eh, school wasn't my strong suit." Hizashi replied as he lifted a package onto the table. he unwrapped it to reveal his robe.

"How does it look?" Izuku asked.

"It's. . . green. It's really green." Flame patterns embroidered the silk fabric, stained a darker jade color to contrast with a sea of brilliant emerald with white trim. On the back read his pseudonym above his last name in gold embroidery. There was also a pair of boxing gloves and new shorts to match.

"Can I?" Izuku asked, holding a hand out to the robe.

"Yeah," Hizashi spread it out on the table, and his son lightly ran his hands over the fabric.

"It might've been smarter to get it in red."

"Oh?"

"Then they can't tell how much you're bleeding." The boy joked.

"Oi, who says I'm even gonna get hit?" Hizashi asked as wrapped the gloves up and put them in his gym bag.

"We're Midoriyas. We get hit a lot." Izuku said.

Hizashi frowned, "I guess we do."

"But, we get up. Right, Dad?" He asked, "We always get up."

* * *

A coin was dropped into a payphone at KDA, it rang a few times before someone picked up.

"Hey, it's Hizashi Midoriya."

 _"Evening, Midoriya."_

"Is it too late to change it?"

 _"You can change it."_

"Good. All on me, win by a knockout."

 _"You're sure?"_

"Yes. I'm sure. But listen, you gotta do this quick. Cash out the second Min hits the mat. Now, get a pen."

 _"Alright. . . got it."_

"You're gonna take the money to a Lin Yamamoto at UFJ Trust and Bank. Deposit it into account number 004-82-56-883."

 _"The account's under your name?"_

"No, not mine. Under Izuku Midoriya."

 _"Izuku. Got it."_

"Okay, thanks. Thank you, Hiro. You're gonna want to lay low for a couple of days after the fight, okay?"

 _"Alright. Can I do anything else for you?"_

"No, don't worry about me. I've got it covered." The phone hung up. After a brief pause, another quarter was slid into it and a new number was dialed. An answering machine picked up.

"Hey, it's. . . It's me. I'm about to do something. . . well. . . I'm about to go be me. You know better than anybody that that doesn't always go so well. I-I don't know how this is gonna go, but if I were a betting man. . . Izuku is going to need you. Now more than ever, and I'm going to need you to look after him. And I know what I'm asking for here, but he's a good kid. And he sure as hell didn't get that from me. . . " His voice shook.

"So. . . it's better this way. Just once, I want Izuku to hear people cheer for his old man. Just once."

He hung up.

* * *

 _". . . And in the red corner, weighing in at 74 kilos, please welcome the Green Dragon, Hizashi Midoriya!"_

 _"Midoriya lands another and another!"_

"Get him, Dad! Get him!"

 _"Min is rocked! Midoriya won't let him out of the corner! The younger Min seems stunned by the ferocious display by the more seasoned Midoriya!"_

 _"Min goes down!"_

"Yes! Yes!"

 _"He's not getting up! It's over! The bell has wrung and the Green Dragon, Hizashi Midoriya, has defeated Ip Min, The Harbinger of Hong Kong!"_

"Yeah, Dad! Yeah!" Izuku cheered as the TV announced the fight's victor. He was crying a bit, overwhelmed by Hizashi defying everyone's expectations.

The TV crew in the ring tried to have a word with Hizashi, but he was already booking it to the locker rooms.

Once he was in, he shrugged off his robe and tore the gloves off. He only had so much time before they found him.

He unwound the bloody tape from his hands, but stopped halfway through the task as he heard the crowd outside.

 _"Midoriya!_ _Midoriya!_ _Midoriya!_ _Midoriya!_ _Midoriya!. . . "_

Hizashi let his eyes close, just for a moment, and let the crowd's adoration sink in, knowing his son was hearing it, too, and that he was proud of him. Nothing in the world could change that.

* * *

The gunshot woke Izuku up an hour later. He'd fallen asleep at the kitchen table again, waiting for his father.

The shot was far off, but it left a sinking feeling in his stomach that he couldn't shake.

The boy walked three blocks towards the police sirens, stopping at an alleyway taped off by two uniformed officers.

"Whoa, hang on there, kid. What's the hurry?"

"I-I think that's my dad!" The boy cried, and the other officer noticed his cane.

"Jesus, Nambu, the kid's blind." He said.

Izuku ducked under Nambu's arm and ran into the alleyway, stopping a few feet short of the body.

"Hey, wait!"

But it was too late. Too late for anything to be done.

* * *

 **Alright, chapter five is done. I don't have much to say except that this week will be pretty busy due to al the holiday stuff, but chapter five should be up before the weekend (12-29-18).**

 **-Fireballmonkey**


	6. 6: Smash

Yuma Mo pulled his crummy Mitsubishi up next to the black town car, the only other car at this shipping pier. He got out and spotted a man dressed in a grey three-piece suit leaning against the waist-high chainlink fence separating the parking lot from the water a few meters below.

He shoved his ungloved hands into his pockets to shelter them from the late winter's cold.

"Thought you'd forgotten about me, Mo." Kiyoshi Taoka said as the two men shook hands.

"That'll never happen," Yuma said as the two men looked over the waterfront, the early-morning sun shining across the bay.

"I don't know. People's memories aren't so good these days." Taoka waved his arm towards the city skyline across the water. "Back in the day, I couldn't wait to see this view. Me and the boys, driving in on Friday nights. We felt like kings of the castle back then."

"Kings don't have bodies in the trunk." Yuma quipped.

"You clearly haven't seen or read Macbeth," Taoka said as both men chuckled.

"What's this about you moving to the States?" Yuma asked his source.

Taoka stared off, "Did you hear about Vic Letto?"

"Heard he retired."

"Yeah. In pieces."

Yuma leaned on the fence and tried to look Taoka in the eye, "Is someone putting it to you?"

"You know the rules." Taoka replied.

"Is it the Russians?"

"The rules," Taoka said firmly, "You go first, and then maybe I have something to say. That's the way it's always been."

Yuma laid off and sucked the cold morning air through his teeth, "The Russians have a bee up their ass. Somebody's been hitting them. Hard. Mostly around the docks."

"It wasn't Letto, if that's what you're thinking."

"So, who are we looking at for this?"

"You tell me." Taoka said.

Yuma sighed and leaned back, "I don't know. I've been scratching at it. We both know it can't be a hero. We'd know if it was the cops. Police reports get altered. Public records, too. But, I know a pattern when it shoves a thumb in my eye. A new player, maybe?"

Taoka sighed and finally faced Yuma, "The way it used to be; if you killed a man, you sent his wife flowers. Now, they just send his wife with him."

Yuma stepped back and eyed the man in front of him, "You know something, don't you?"

"Yeah. Philadelphia's beautiful this time of year."

Yuma let out another sigh, "Ah, the rules."

"There are no rules, Mo. Not anymore."

Yuma looked at the semi-retired mobster, "So that's it? That's all I get?"

Taoka's lips were pressed in a thin line. "You know, when I went away to do my ten, every newspaper in town dragged my name through the shit. You were the only one who did it. . . without mentioning my kids. I've always been grateful for that."

"Then give me something. A name. . . _Anything._ "

Taoka put his hand on Yuma's shoulder, "Take a pass on this one, Mo. Some fights will just get you bloody." He patted his shoulder and walked back to the town car, leaving Mo to figure out his next move.

* * *

The morning of the Entrance Exams, Toshinori arrived at Dagoba Municipal Beach to see his protege sitting on top of a mountain of garbage. Toshinori increased his walking pace and came to the stairs leading down to the beach.

"Oh my. . . Kid, you went beyond my expectations!" He cried as he saw the fruits of Izuku's labor.

He'd cleaned beyond the boundary that All Might had given him, to the point that there wasn't a speck of dust. It was last minute, but it was perfect.

Izuku yawned as he climbed down to meet his teacher. "Morning, All Might."

Now that he was facing Izuku, All Might could see his slumped form and the slight bags under his eyes.

"Uh, kid, did you sleep at all last night?"

"Not a wink. All the nerves about the exams were kind of getting to me, so I came here to make sure the job was done. Before I knew, it was morning-" A handhold Izuku was using slipped, making the tired boy lose balance entirely and fall down the pile until All Might caught him.

"You did good work, Midoriya." The pro hero said proudly. He set the boy down, "It may be just the beginning of your journey, but you've finally become a suitable vessel for One For All!"

Izuku fell back and sat in the sand, All Might's words making his heart swell. He was so close to the goal he'd strode towards his entire life, but he felt like. . . he was cheating. The greatest hero in the world personally trained him and was just _giving_ him the secret to his power.

"You did this all. . . for me," Izuku sniffled as he got to his knees and bowed his head, "I can't thank you enough, All Might!"

The pro gave a hearty chuckle, "Say what you want, Young Midoriya, but know that when it comes down to the truth, you did this for yourself. It was all because of your hard work! Now, for your reward, Izuku Midoriya!"

All Might reached up and plucked a strand of his golden hair from his own head.

"Eat this!"

* * *

 _'Jesus, I can't believe I actually ate it.'_ Izuku muttered as he walked onto the UA campus. After choking down the 'super hair' and slugging a couple espressos to get him energized for the exam, the boy had to book it so he wouldn't be late.

"So, you made it." He turned to see Bakugo walk up next to him, "You look like shit."

Izuku sighed, knowing the boy spoke the truth. He'd had no time to shower or eat a real breakfast after running back to Hinatabokko to grab his school uniform. His tired eyes were hidden by his glasses, but his clothes were wrinkled, his hair was as unkempt as ever and he was wearing his socks on inside out. "I know. And before you ask, I didn't sleep well last night."

"No kidding."

They started walking, trying to ignore the weird looks other applicants were getting.

 _"Isn't that that Bakugo kid from the news with the Sludge Villain?"_

 _"What's that blind kid doing here?"_

 _"Maybe it's some sort of gimmick."_

"Looks like we're already drawing a crowd."

" _I'm_ the one that'll be drawing the attention once we get in here. You think they'll really let you in without a quirk?"

"I've gotta at least try. I'd never forgive myself if I didn't."

"And if you fail?"

"I'll try for the Support or General Studies courses. I've heard that you can petition the school to let you transfer courses at certain points in the year."

"That still doesn't address the issue of you being quirkless."

"Yeah, well, funny you should mention that-" And now Izuku was tripping on his own shoelaces. _'Okay, guess I'll die. . . wait-'_

The boy found himself floating in mid-air, _'Oh God, is it the rapture already. . . ?'_ This was definitely a new experience for him, and a highly uncomfortable one. The feeling of not being grounded, of not feeling the ground beneath his feet and not feeling the pull of gravity was jarring.

"Are you alright?" Both he and Bakugo looked to their right to see a girl with her hand on Izuku's backpack. She had shoulder length brown hair, matching eyes, and a round face. She righted Izuku's floating form before steepling her fingertips together, making Izuku land on solid ground.

"I'm sorry I used my quirk on you without asking. I just figured it would be bad luck for someone to fall on their first day. Did nerves get to you, too? I guess this whole thing is pretty exciting, right? Oh, the bells gonna ring. See ya!" She told him before hurrying along towards the main building.

". . . The fuck happened just now?" Bakugo asked.

* * *

Once in the auditorium, big spotlights lit up the main stage to gather everyone's attention on the Pro Hero: Present Mic.

"For all you radio listeners tuning in, welcome to my live show today! Everybody say HEY!"

Nobody said HEY. In fact, the silence was more deafening than the hero's voice.

"What a refined response. . . Well, I'll quickly present to you the rundown on the practical exam! ARE YOU READY?!"

More silence. _"This is getting painful,"_ Izuku whispered to his friend. "For your ears or your sanity?" Bakugo asked in return.

"As it says in the applications, you listeners will be conducting ten-minute mock urban battles after this! You can bring whatever you want with you. After the presentation, you'll had to the specified battle center, okay?"

 _"So they split us randomly so we can't work with anyone we know."_ Bakugo summed up Izuku ran his thumb over the info card that was given out. They were faint, but he could feel the indentations from the text on it: _Izuku Midoriya, Examinee No. 2234, Test Location: Battle Center B._

 _"We're in separate centers."_

 _"Yeah, I know._ One _of us_ can _read._ _"_

 _"Oh, munch me!"_

"There are three different types of faux villains stationed at each battle center. You earn points for each based on their level of difficulty. Your goal is to use your quirks to earn as many points as you can by immobilizing the faux villain," Present Mic explained, "Of course, attacking other examinees and any other unheroic actions are prohibited!"

A couple rows ahead of Izuku and Katsuki, a boy with glasses stood straight up and raised his hand, "May I ask a question?"

"Okay."

"On the printout, there are four types of villains. If this is a misprint, then U.A., the most prominent school in Japan, should be ashamed of that foolish mistake! What is the meaning of this?" He then turned and pointed straight at Izuku, "And you. Quit muttering to yourself! Everyone else here is trying to pay attention! If you think U.A. is just for fun, then leave at once!"

Katsuki stood up and planted a foot on his desk, "The fuck did you just say to him!?"

"Kacchan, calm down!" Izuku yelled.

"No, by all means, speak your mind! You got a problem with my friend here, Four-Eyes?!" He challenged.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Save some aggression for the exams, you three!" Present Mic yelled before the situation could turn volatile. "Now, to discuss the first question: The fourth type of villain is worth zero points. They're more obstacles than anything else, so just try and avoid them altogether. There's one in every battle center that will go wild in narrow spaces. It's not impossible to defeat, there's just not much point in trying."

"I see, please excuse the interruption!" The kid with glasses called out before bowing and sitting down.

"Alright, that's enough from me! I'll leave you all with this school's official motto-Go beyond, Plus Ultra!"

* * *

"Pretty big, for a fake city. . . " Izuku muttered as he and the other examinees stood outside Battle Center B. He yawned and stretched his back, feeling the caffeine from his measly breakfast ware off. Once the adrenaline started with the exam, he'd be back to 100%.

Maybe 99.

Somewhere in the 90's, for sure.

The duplicate city must've been at least four square kilometers. That meant a lot of room for the fake villains to hide in. If they were just robots, then there should be no problem for Izuku. Except for the fact that he'd never gotten the opportunity to try out his newly acquired quirk and all he had on him to help were the still-drying Muay Tai ropes wrapped around his hands and the steel escrima sticks under his jacket.

Around him, he found that some of the other applicants had their own special equipment to go with their quirks. But there was another person's presence that felt. . . familiar.

 _'I'm sorry I used my quirk on you without asking. I just figured it would be bad luck for someone to fall on their first day.'_

Ah, it was the girl who'd helped him at the front gates. She at least let her nervousness show, unlike everyone who held looks of determination or cockiness even though their hearts were beating like drums.

 _'I should thank her later. And ask about that quirk of hers.'_ Izuku thought. He may be blind, but the world of quirks would eternally fascinate him.

He felt a hand grip his shoulder, and nearly broke it out of pure reflex. It was the kid with glasses that had called him out in front of the entire auditorium, "Excuse me," His voice was as uptight and stern as before.

"That girl over there is trying to concentrate. Don't go and throw her off."

Was he that obvious. Izuku cleared his throat, "You don't need to worry about that. She helped me out in the courtyard earlier and I wanted to thank her, but it can wait." He explained. "I apologize."

 _'I should focus, too. . . '_ Izuku thought. He tried to listen in on the other contestants, see if anyone knew anything that could be useful. They didn't. Although, a few did think that he was some sort of plant that was injected into the group to test people. That was great for his self-confidence.

He couldn't hear anything within the city due the giant concrete barrier surrounding it. Although, there was a great deal of electricity cycling around the place, but that was to be expected when the examinees were about to fight an army of robots.

"Okay, START!"

Everyone turned to Present Mic, who stood atop one of the observation towers by the main gate.

"What's wrong? There are no countdowns in real fights! Run! Your time starts now!"

The group took off into the fake city, heading down the main street before branching off to search for villains. Izuku, however, decided to break off right away and head down back alleys and around smaller buildings until he could find a good number of villains alone.

He eventually came upon a squad of One-pointers rolling through a group of apartment buildings and engaged them head-on.

Izuku reached under his jackets and took out his weapons. They were almost one meter in length and twelve centimeters in diameter. They were weighted on one end and wrapped in special grip-tape at the base to make the steel easier to hold onto.

The first bot charged him, but he parried a swing from one of its arms before batting it across the narrow head. The impact didn't do any real harm, but that wasn't the point.

 _'There aren't many hollow spots aside from the tires, but there's a big jumble of wires at the base of the neck.'_

Izuku ducked under the bot's right arm before planting his foot on the back of the metal plate that protected its tire. He used the foothold to boost himself up and shoved one of the escrima sticks into the joint at the base of the neck and put all his weight on it. The metal gave way and the whole neck detached, exposing the endo-skeleton underneath all the armor. Izuku shoved his other stick in between a group of twitching rods and wires and twisted, breaking the relatively thin pieces of metal and severing the head.

The bot collapsed in a jumbled heap, and Izuku moved to the next one.

His formula for attacking the robots was pretty straightforward: draw one in, get under its guard, go for a weak spot. The base of the neck, the tire, the arm joints, even the singular eye in the center of the head were all viable options to disable the faux-villains and before Izuku knew it, he had a dozen of them down.

Once that group was taken care of, Izuku stopped as a much larger, heavier bot rolled down the street. He still didn't know how to use One for All, so he had to rely on what he knew already. he had to be smart, plan his moves carefully and pace himself-

"SIX MINUTES LEFT!"

-Or, he could just go ham on whatever fake-villains he saw and hope for the best.

He charged at the three-pointer, built like a small tank, with four legs covered in tank-treads that pulled it forward, along with some kind of ranged-weapon or launchers on the top.

 _'Screw it!'_ Izuku ran at it from the side and slid right under before stapping a stick into a crease in its armor-plating. He pried the panel off and clenched his fist, feeling that the Muay Tai ropes had finally dried and hardened around his hands.

He punched up and into the wires, gears and machinery bits until he felt the hulking robot top in its tracks, then panicked and rolled out from under it as the legs folded under its weight.

 _'It's not enough points!'_ He thought as he growled in frustration. He could hear plenty of robots out there, but they were all congregating towards the biggest group of initiates, meaning he'd have to share the fake-villains if he didn't want to waste time searching.

The decision was turned mute, however, as explosions were triggered in the middle of the city, kicking up huge dust clouds that blew through the streets.

As the dust and debris settled, the examinees looked up in a mixture of shock, awe, and fear to see the enormous form of the Zero-pointer looking down at them, like a toddler might look at bugs in the dirt.

"T-that seems a little excessive. . . " Izuku muttered as he _felt_ sheer size of it. It rolled over entire buildings and streets. Whole wind currents were displaced as it moved, and it made the ground shake like a thousand subway tunnels moving in tandem.

Izuku couldn't move his legs, frozen as the Zero-pointer moved towards the crowd of examinees, most of whom were already fleeing.

He was about to do the same when he heard a voice call out.

"Ow! My leg!" The girl who'd helped Izuku earlier was trapped with her leg caught under a pile of rubble. It wouldn't even be half a minute before the Zero-pointer was on top of her. She'd be crushed.

Izuku was rushing the Zero-pointer before he knew it, his legs on auto-pilot and his heart pounding in his chest.

The boy crouched down and remembered what All Might had said at the beach in the early morning.

 _"When you use One for All, you're gonna want to squeeze your buttcheeks tight and yell this from the deepest part of your_ heart,"

He launched himself up, feeling a power that he'd never even dreamed of feeling before surge through his legs as he shot forward like a rocket straight at the robot.

"SMAAAAAAASH!" He felt the power of One for All surge through his arm as his fist drove into the Zero-pointer, unleashing a devastating shockwave that displaced the air, caved the robots faceplate in and knocked it down and out in one hit. It also ended up SHATTERING HIS FUCKING ARM.

He was suspended in the air for only a second before he plummeted to earth, several stories below him.

 _'Oh God, I'm an idiot.'_ His legs and arm were destroyed. There was one minute left on the clock. The only way to survive the fall would be to do another Smash with his one good hand, but that would leave him a virtual quadruped.

He was only a few meters off the ground when he was slapped hard in the face, then felt his body come to a halt, floating for a couple of seconds before falling to the ground on his stomach.

The girl he'd saved had saved him, it seemed. Izuku used his good arm to push himself onto his back as he gulped down breaths of air. He was alive, but now time was up.

* * *

 **Another chapter up, even if its a bit late than I hoped. The next chapter will take a bit longer, due to some IRL stuff around New Years.**

 **Don't have much else to say. Later.**

 **-Fireballmonkey**


End file.
